


the one that I want

by rebeccabethstilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also small tiny little mention of e/R, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M for later chapters (hopefully), M/M, No age difference, Queer as Folk References, Siken is a God, Texting, The Hales are sassy, Though more fluff than angst, Wheatus is used, itty bitty mention of Kate/Derek, light Grease AU, mention of Klaine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccabethstilinski/pseuds/rebeccabethstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Scotty, I'm just glad you now know what personification is, maybe you can pass English this year while I slave away in AP. Which, by the way, is a class I share with none other than Derek "Eyebrows McBroody" Hale. Hell yes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to start a multi-chaptered fic, because I have Spring Break for two weeks and don't have a life outside of studying and watching John Hughes movies.  
> This is lightly influenced by Grease (Derek is Danny Zucko, Stiles is Sandy etc) but there was no summer fling and Stiles is not Australian or blonde or annoyingly dense.  
> Huge, massive, unquantifiable amounts of thanks to my Beta(!) Bea, aka thegirlwhorunswithwolves here on Ao3 and jeltikova over on tumblr!

  
"So, what did you do all summer, Derek?" Jackson nudged him hard with his shoulder, winking lewdly and grinning. No mistaking what he's implying, Derek thought. Subtlety is not Jackson Whittemore's strong suit.

Jackson, with his Porsche and his obnoxious CW haircut and his smug grin; Isaac, with his angelic face and devilish behaviour; Danny, with his blinding dimples and awful track record with every boy who entertained any not-so-straight thoughts; Boyd, with his intimidating silence and broad shoulders. None of them were particularly subtle. Not that Derek himself was subtle, no, just that perhaps he wasn't quite as obvious as his pack of friends.

"Nothing you need to know, Whittemore." Derek answered calmly, scanning the school parking lot. Freshman stood in a herd, not talking to or looking at anyone. Overexcited Sophomores, who were too busy being pleased not to be the youngest in school anymore, exceedingly projected self-confidence as they mingled with the uncaring Juniors, who just wanted to be Seniors. Like Derek and his friends, the Seniors were inwardly jaded with school and outwardly arrogant that they were the oldest, and so could do whatever they wanted.

"Whatever, man." Jackson's grin had faded to an unenthusiastic smirk just as the final bell rang. The group of boys sighed collectively, rolling their eyes and grimacing at each other, before following the herd of students through the school doors.

\--------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Scott, dude, wait!" Stiles yelled, flailing his arms around wildly, running up to his friend. Stiles had got to school on time, seriously he had, but then Derek Hale and his pack of intimidating, hot friends had showed up and Stiles had gotten distracted by muscles and hair and leather jackets. So obviously, his books and backpack and stuff he actually needed for class had been forgotten and he had to run back to his Jeep and get them.

"Dude." Scott's eyeroll conveyed his opinion of Stiles' lateness. "Seriously, Derek Hale? Still? Stiles, man, it's been two years, just ask him out already!"

Stiles stared open-mouthed. How could Scott possibly think it was just that easy to ask out Derek Hale?

"Scott, have you no idea who I am? Who Derek Hale is? He doesn't know who I am, and he doesn't give a damn about me. His boyfriend's a dick, he brings a gun to school, he'd simply kick my ass if he knew the truth, et cetera. I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby. Only, he doesn't have a boyfriend. I don't think. I don't even think he's gay, or bisexual or anything. If he was, he'd totally be dating Danny, 'cause come on man, Danny's like sunshine and sexy rainbows."

Scott tilted his head to the side, like a puppy. An actual puppy. His best friend was a tiny little Labrador.

"Dude, did you just personify rainbows? Like seriously, who does that?" Scott's face scrunched up. Like Stiles had just hit him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper, God this metaphor was getting away from him.

"Scotty, I'm just glad you now know what personification is, maybe you can pass English this year while I slave away in AP. Which, by the way, is a class I share with none other than Derek "Eyebrows McBroody" Hale. Hell yes." Stiles punched the air, trying to freeze frame like Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. Scott hit him in the shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"C'mon man, bell rang like ten minutes ago."

Stiles yelped. "I've got gym class in half an hour."

"Dude, stop with the Wheatus!"

\--------------------------------------------------

"Welcome to AP English. I'm Mr Miller, and unfortunately your teacher for this school year. I have your scores from last semester and have concluded that I have, without doubt, the worst job in this school. Why, you ask? Because you are high school students. You have bad B.O. and no concentration whatsoever – yes, I am talking to you Mr Stilinski, no need to flail and injure yourself or your classmates - and you all have no chance in hell of passing this class. We will be starting with modern poetry, so thanks to all the little ‘hipster, tumblr girls’ I had in my class last year, we starting with Crush by Richard Siken. Any questions? No? Good, okay, we'll start with "Scheherazade" because it's quick and easy, like my ex-wife in the sack, if you know what I mean."

Stiles stared.

Derek stared.

Nobody said anything, and so Mr Miller began reading in a monotone voice.

"Dude, what? I mean, I love Siken as much as the next guy, but I can't put up with Finstock 2.0’s monotonous reading and freaking _sweater vests_! Right?" Stiles whispered to Derek. Derek, who had still been staring at the teacher, slowly turned his head towards Stiles. Their eyes locked together, and just as Stiles was about to slowly crawl under his chair and beg to be given a quick death, Derek quirked up a corner of his mouth and whispered,

"He pronounced "Scheherazade" wrong."

Stiles gaped. Oh no. No no no no no NO. Derek Hale could not be a secret English nerd. Nope. No way. In Spanish, no. Stiles was totally cool with crushing on Derek Hale because of his muscles and his hair and his freaking Oscar-winning eyebrows, but no, he couldn't just turn around and be a real person with actual likes and dislikes. Nope.

Derek just grinned widely at him, showing all his teeth, before turning his head back round to face the teacher. _Stilinski. Huh. This could be interesting._

\--------------------------------------------------

Stiles started sinking lower and lower into his chair until only his head was visible above the desk. He slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text.

To: Beam Me Up  
\- dude nope mission abort derek hale is a real person with opinions and not just a sexy as all hell robot send help pls

To: Bffl  
 - _ahahahahahahahahahaha sux 2 b u man_

To: Beam Me Up  
\- i'm holding auditions for a new bffl you suck and i want a new one

To: Bffl  
\- _gd luck wit tht dude im 2 awsum 4 u 2 replace_

Stiles sighed and put his phone away. Mr Miller was staring at him. Crap.

"Mr Stilinski. What is your view on "Scheherazade"?"

"My view is that you're pronouncing it wrong, dude." Stiles deadpanned. The entire class burst into laughter, and Stiles stole a quick glance at Derek. He was smiling hugely, his shoulders shaking. Stiles had made him laugh. He made Derek Hale, Prince of Scowl, laugh.

  
Detention. So worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, tell me what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> ps I am secretly a huge wheatus fan, shh.


	2. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't believe in love, I believe in fucking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, huge thanks to Bea for Beta'ing!

Stiles sat across the table from Derek, staring down at his copy of "A Midsummer Night's Dream". Four months had passed since senior year had begun, and despite Stiles knowing about Derek's secret love for all things literature related, he was still failing English class. And because Stiles was a not-so-secret English nerd and was on a solid A, Mr Miller had asked him to tutor Derek.

  
 _*_

  
_"Stilinski, Hale. Glad you could both be here. Hale, you are failing this class horribly. You haven't turned in a single paper, you pay no attention during lessons and honestly, your hair pisses me off. Meanwhile, Stilinski here is a perfect student...as perfect as he can be. So, Stilinski you'll be tutoring Hale until such a time when his grade improves, either of you die or Coach Finstock stops recycling that god awful speech from Independence Day. Okay, get out now, both of you."_

  
_Derek clenched his jaw. Failing English was a choice, not an inevitability. He was fucking smart._

  
_“So…Why are you flunking on purpose? Like, we both know that you're pretty much the most intelligent person in the class, dude. I mean, I get that it's probably not that cool or whatever to be acing English, but it's obviously something you're good at, and if I'm not wrong, you enjoy it. Come on man, as if anybody else would have noticed Miller pronouncing a poem title wrong. Also, I'm not entirely cool with the prospect of tutoring you, because you do that thing where you- yep, you’re doing it now, kinda look like you want to rip my throat out with your teeth." Stiles whispered the last sentence, stepping away from Derek with his hands raised in the air. He scrubbed one hand nervously over his buzz cut, looking up at Derek through long lashes._

  
_Derek stared back at him with a blank face. God, he was pretty. Stiles swallowed and looked down at the floor, missing the way Derek tracked the movement of his throat with narrowed eyes._

  
_*_

  
"Okay, dude, what the hell is up? You've been glaring at my microwave like you want it to die, which I am so not okay with because I need it for reasons. Popcorn reasons. So tell me what's wrong, man?" Stiles asked, shattering the hour-long silence that had built up around his kitchen table.Derek had said next to nothing since he arrived at Stiles' house to study - not a big shock, Derek was not a particularly loquacious person - but there was something distinctly angry about his silence, as opposed to his usual indifference.

  
Derek growled low in his throat before grumbling,

  
"Kate Argent."

  
Stiles threw his head back suddenly, lifting a shoulder and half-smiling. Everybody knew about Miss Argent sleeping with Derek last year, and subsequently getting suspended from teaching after it was discovered that she had seduced multiple underage students.

  
Stiles lifted an eyebrow at Derek, silently asking _"what about the psycho bitch?"_

  
"She'd been trying to get back in contact with me for a while, and then I told her to go fuck herself and now she won't stop texting me."

  
Stiles stifled a laugh, stretching out his arms before clasping his hands behind his head.

  
"Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, dude."

  
Derek grinned at him; his bad mood slipping away, then said evenly,

  
"I don't believe in love. I believe in fucking."

  
Stiles began spluttering and flailing his arms wildly, trying to comprehend the magnitude of awesomeness that had just occurred. Brian Kinney. Derek Hale just quoted _Brian Kinney_ from Queer as Folk. Queer. As. Folk. As in, the TV show about attractive gay men fucking each other on screen. What.

  
Derek let slip a small chuckle at Stiles' gobsmacked expression, before gathering his books and notepads, shoving them into his backpack, and standing up to leave. Just as he reached the door (Stiles was still pretty much incapacitated at the kitchen table), he turned his head to face him and left the parting remark;

  
"See you tomorrow, Sunshine."

  
\--------------------------------------------------

  
It had been two weeks since The Incident Where Derek Hale May Or May Not Have Propositioned Stiles Stilinski, and Stiles was confused. In fact, he was about as confused, as he was drunk-which was very. It was Lydia Martin's annual End of Year/Christmas party, and for the first time Stiles, Scott and Erica had been invited. Though once upon a time, this would have prompted Stiles to implement a wild plan to seduce Lydia, his mind was recently less preoccupied with strawberry blonde curls and pouting lips, and more with piercing greenbluehazel eyes and dark stubble and muscles and those godammed cheekbones, Christ on a bike. He was aware that Derek was also at the party, as were most of the Seniors, but he hadn't seen him all night.

  
 _He was probably busy with some perky blonde cheerleader_ , his traitorous mind supplied. _I mean, it's obvious that he's at least watched a little QaF, but he was probably just making fun of it or watching it with Danny to support his friend or something. He definitely knows all about your huge gay crush on him, and he was just making fun of you, he would never actually feel the same._

He felt the couch sink a little next to him. Erica had left earlier to go dance, and a little while ago Scott had disappeared somewhere.  
He'd been staring at Allison all night with his patented Kicked Puppy face, which had been pretty solidly present since they broke up, but Stiles had noticed when his best friend's focus shifted to the tall kid with the curly blonde hair - Elijah? Isaac? Something Biblical anyway - which, wow, Scott was bi, since when? Anyway, he assumed Scott was with his new bff, the Bible kid.

  
He looked up blearily, still clutching a half empty bottle of Jack. Derek had apparently sat down next to him, and was staring at him amusedly, a distractingly fond look on his face. 

  
Stiles scoffed, then pointed an unsteady finger somewhere in the region of Derek's face, saying  
"Do you know about my huge gay crush on you? Cos if you do, dude, that's not cool, makin' fun of me and flirting back, uh huh, I noticed!" He exclaimed suddenly, clasping his bottle to his chest. "I noticed, 'n thass not nice!”, he slurred.

  
Derek tilted his head to the side, scrunching his face up. He stood up suddenly, pulling Stiles up with him.  
"C'mon, man, outside." He said quietly into Stiles' ear, guiding him through the crowd of sweaty teenagers. They made it out to the, thankfully, deserted porch, the cold winter wind deterring their classmates from coming outside to make out.

  
Derek pushed Stiles gently against the wooden railing, crowding up and surrounding him, placing his hands on the railing on either side of Stiles' body, trapping him. He flickered his eyes up to meet Stiles', noting the distracting way his mouth had fallen open, the pink flush of his cheeks, his dark eyes staring hungrily at Derek's lips. Derek couldn't help himself, being more than slightly buzzed, as he reached up with one hand to cup Stiles' jaw, running his fingertips over the warm skin of his cheek, his thumb over his full bottom lip, his hand through his unruly dark hair. Derek tracked the path of his hand with his eyes, only stopping to look at Stiles when it had stopped moving at the base of Stiles' skull. He threaded his fingers through the soft hair he found there, before leaning in and, relishing in Stiles' full body shudder, whispered in his ear,

  
"I hope you're not too drunk that you'll forget this in the morning."

  
Derek smirked, pulling away slightly then grazing his lips over Stiles' cheekbone, breathing hotly against his jaw. He came to a stop inches away from Stiles' mouth. He stared at the perfect Cupid's bow for a few seconds, licking his lips, and then looking up into Stiles' eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust.

  
The door opened behind them, spilling light and harsh noise out onto the quiet porch, causing Derek to jump away from Stiles like he'd been burned.  
The two boys watched as Jackson was led out of the party by Danny, holding his hand and stumbling down the porch steps to Jackson's Porsche.

  
They were still watching as Jackson pinned Danny against the hood of his car, wrapping Danny's legs around his waist and reclining him back onto the hood, before covering Danny's body with his own and kissing him softly.

  
Derek continued watching as Danny ran his fingers through Jackson's hair, almost reverently.  
Meanwhile, Stiles was watching Derek, considering how Derek’s face had gone blank, the mask slipping back into place when they were interrupted, as if he was trying to cover up what they were doing, what they were about to do. As if he was ashamed.

  
When Derek turned back to face Stiles, the other boy was gone.

  
"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment, plan my death


	3. (Barely) December/January (Just)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But because he was drunk, Stiles could only concentrate on one thing - getting a kiss from Derek at midnight. Because seriously, Stiles could only take being so close to Derek, and not being able to touch him, so far."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unBeta'd unfortunately
> 
> UPDATE: sorry for the ongoing editing, I posted this chapter from my phone and Ao3 doesn't work well with it.

The next time Derek saw Stiles, it was New Year's and he was drunk, again. This time, however, it was Derek himself throwing the party, thanks to Uncle Peter convincing his mom that, no, 150 teenagers alone in your house with illegally acquired alcohol and pot _isn't_ a bad idea. Derek still has no idea how he done it.

Talia Hale was a force to be reckoned with, and when she teamed up with Laura nobody was spared. They were the two most important women in Derek's life, and their opinions meant more to him than any other's. His mother and his sister loved Stiles. 

  
*

  
"Hey, Mrs Hale, pleased to meet you, I'm Stiles, Derek's, uh, partner for the English project? I don't know if he's told you about it, but basically we get like, free reign with whatever materials we want to do the project on? Like, me and Derek, we picked poetry, modern versus classical, y'know? Yeah, we're pretty much writing a paper comparing Siken's, uh, "Straw House, Straw Dog" to Edgar Allan Poe's "Annabel Lee", like the whole theme of hopelessness and lost love and - "

Derek clamped a hand over Stiles' mouth, cutting off his rambling. Stiles - son of the Sheriff and trained in basic self-defence since age 8 - brought his fisted hand up quickly, throwing it back into Derek's nose, eliciting a cry of "holy fucking shit, Stiles!" from the larger boy. Stiles jumped around, flailing his arms wildly and shouting "oh my god, Derek, I'm so sorry, oh my god!" Derek clutched his nose and glared at Stiles, tipping his head back to try to stop the blood spurting all over his kitchen floor. 

Stiles grasped Derek's face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over Derek's cheekbones and cursing quietly under his breath.  
  
"Shit fuck, Derek, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, oh fuck, I can't deal if I've broke your face, shit man, you're too pretty for this, all the girls at school will kill me and I'll die and never get to ki...yeah, man, I think it's stopped bleeding, I don't think I hit you too hard? I hope. Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sorry, fuuuuuck."  Stiles tilted Derek's head back down. He stared intently into Derek's eyes, rubbing his fingers over the hinges of his clenched jaw. His thumbs absentmindedly continued petting Derek's face, tracing a path from the inner corners of his eyes to his temples. 

Derek stared back into Stiles' worried eyes. The surprise of the punch shocked Derek more than the pain itself and Derek, as former lacrosse captain, had suffered much worse injuries. He brought his hands up to wrap his thumbs and forefingers around Stiles' thin wrists, grasping his forearms gently with his fingers. 

"I'm fine, Stiles, honestly, it's fine. I've been punched harder than that." He reassured him, glancing between Stiles' eyes.   
Stiles let out a choked laugh, narrowing his eyes. Just as he opened his mouth - no doubt with some witty retort - he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind him.

He jumped away from Derek, letting his hands fall to his sides before crossing his arms across his chest. Laura Hale snickered quietly as Derek's mom hid a smile behind her hand. 

Derek blushed, looking away from Stiles and training his eyes on the floor.

"If Klaine over there are quite finished, I'd like to get to the mall before it closes, hmm, Mom?" Laura spoke quickly, her head jerking towards Derek and Stiles before raising an eyebrow at her mother. 

Talia cleared her throat, still smiling. She grinned at Stiles as she walked towards the door.

  
*

  
"Derek, dude! Who even decided _lips_? Like, some nights I wish that they could build a castle, like that blonde dude from Glee, his mouth his huge! Trouty mouth, dude. _Trouty mouth_!" Stiles grinned widely, throwing his arm around Derek's shoulders and leaning into him. 

He had swore to himself at the start of the night that he wouldn't go looking for Derek after he had been drinking - he barely remembered Lydia's party, other than feeling dejected and angry at Derek and loving towards Danny and Jackson - Dackson? Janny? Whittelani. Whatever. He couldn't even remember why he was angry at Derek. He had vague memories of a cold porch, a warm body pressed against his, and a deep desire to punch Derek in the face. 

But because he was drunk, Stiles could only concentrate on one thing - getting a kiss from Derek at midnight. Because seriously, Stiles could only take being so close to Derek, and not being able to touch him, so far. 

Derek smirked and chuckled lightly as he wrapped his arm around Stiles' waist, pulling him closer. He hid his smile in Stiles' hair - newly grown out from his usual buzz cut - and inhaled deeply, smelling the obvious vodka and beer, the coconut shampoo hidden underneath and then something that was purely Stiles. Something sweet and musky and sexy all at once.

"Man, it's like, five minutes til midnight! It's gonna be the future! But wait, Derek, will you kiss me then? 'Cause like, it's been driving me crazy, cuh-ray-zee! Like, your eyes - what even colour are they? - and your fucking cheekbones and your hair, I mean, what? Right?!" Stiles threw his head back as he spoke, grasping Derek's shoulder tightly. He grinned up at him and darted his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, for once - despite the haze of alcohol - not missing the way Derek tracked the movement and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically. His smile widened when he noticed the light pink blush over Derek's cheeks, and when he spoke quietly in Stiles' ear,

"Yes, Stiles. I will definitely be kissing you at midnight. Now stop groping my ass in public." 

Stiles laughed loudly, throwing his head back like a little boy. He lifted his hand to Derek's lower back, slipping his warm palm under his shirt, before stage-whispering in his ear,

"Does that mean I can grope it in _private_ , Derek, love?" Derek shivered slightly at the huskiness of Stiles' voice. _God, this kid'll be the death of me._

"Whatever you want, Stiles, just, go get a glass of water. Sober up a little. I want you to remember this. Meet me back here." Derek ran his hand over Stiles' head, pressing a light kiss to his hairline - _hey, Derek never claimed to be sober!_ \- then pushing him gently towards the kitchen.

Stiles gaped at Derek. What. Either Derek was really drunk - unlikely, he didn't smell like booze, only sunshine and old books and sexy - or Stiles was really drunk - more likely, he stopped counting shots after 13 - or Derek Hale was actually flirting back. And promising to kiss him at midnight. 

And so, because Stiles was an optimistic drunk, he ran to the Hale's kitchen, quickly poured himself a glass of water and guzzled it down. 

But yet, because Stiles was the unluckiest bastard to ever exist, he was accosted by a very, very drunk Erica Reyes. She clutched his arm and stared up into his face with wide eyes, licking her lips before slurring,

" 'tiles, where're you like, all the time? Cos like, y'r just ne'r at lunch anymore! D'you like D'rek more than me 'n Scott?" 

Stiles sighed deeply, _not drunk enough for this shit,_ before palming Erica off onto the closest person - Boyd. Huh. Could work. Whatever. Stiles was so not about to lose this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to kiss Derek Hale. This was groundbreaking. 

Derek was vaguely aware of the shouts surrounding him - _ten! nine! eight!_ \- as he scanned the room for Stiles. Had he come on too strong? Had he been reading Stiles wrong?

Duh. Of course not, Stiles was as subtle as a flying brick. Derek had been aware of Stiles' eyes on him since the start of Freshman year, when Derek was still passing through his monobrowed, spiky-haired, braces phase and Stiles was a lot shorter and a lot happier. (His mom died half way through Sophmore year, and though Stiles was still as obnoxious as ever, Derek noticed how his eyes would take a second to catch up with his lips.) 

  
(Derek had noticed Stiles too)

  
He was brought back to the present by a long arm snaking around his waist - _five! four! three!_ \- and a soft voice in his ear, whispering along with the countdown. Derek beamed, his hands snaking their way up Stiles' arms to grasp his neck. Stiles pressed their foreheads together, a small smile on his bitten-red lips.

  
 _Two! One!_

  
Derek leaned down as Stiles pushed up to close the few inches that seperated them. Brown eyes fluttered shut as Derek cupped Stiles' jaw with one hand. The kiss started slowly, with Stiles softly kissing only Derek's top lip, a pleased sound escaping his mouth, as Derek pressed against Stiles' lower back, pressing him closer, always closer. It soon gathered momentum as Derek found that rasping his teeth over Stiles' bottom lip made him shiver and pull at Derek's hair. Stiles' tongue pushed into Derek's mouth, slick, hot and wet, and Derek groaned, pulling Stiles impossibly closer as he entangled his tongue with Stiles'. 

The kiss ended mutually, Derek pulling away with his eyes still shut as Stiles rested his forehead against Derek's nose and just breathed. They became aware of the rush of noise around them, at the forefront Danny's cry of "Hah! Jackson, pay up, fifty bucks, I told you they had something going on! I told you!" and Jackson's groan in response. 

Derek opened his eyes quickly, staring down at Stiles. His lips twitched before cracking into a huge smile against the tip of Stiles' nose, causing Stiles to smile up at Derek and grasp his wrist. He brought it up to his mouth, palm up, before whispering,

"Do you permit it?" 

Derek laughed quietly, flickering his eyes from his hand grasped in Stiles' to warm brown eyes staring back at him. He nodded, and Stiles smiled, lightly kissing the palm of his hand before intertwining it with his own. 

The party started up again, louder than ever, as Derek and Stiles walked towards the door. They stood out on the porch, welded together from knee to shoulder, before Derek turned his head to face Stiles. 

"If anyone is Apollo in this situation, it's you. Though you drink like Grantaire, you're as bright as Enjolras. Like the sun. It's hard not to look at you." Derek whispered, grateful for the night covering his red cheeks. 

Stiles grinned widely, his face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. _Happy new year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos/comments/declarations of love
> 
> I can't help but mention ALL of my ships in this fic.
> 
> sorry I'm not sorry.
> 
> (bonus points for whoever can name all my ships woo)


End file.
